The Price

"Watch where you lay your eyes, boy. These belong to me." Greed's voice echoed.

The booming voice seemed to pierce into Muhammed's very core, and it rattled his ears for a long moment as he stabilized himself.

After a long moment he took a deep breath, and looked towards Greed's towering, golden figure.

He paid no heed to the eyes of the dozens of women that were now focused on him.

However, when Muhammed's eyes landed upon Greed, he almost lost his stature once again.

The full attention of an ancient progenitor is not something one can just brace themselves for.

For a second Muhammed attempted to look into Greed's piercing, golden eyes, but he was unable to focus on his own thoughts. Instead, he was forced to look at his shining horns in order to remember his mission.

Muhammed bowed at the waist, giving him a brief reprieve from Greed's oppressive presence.

When he looked back up, he had regained his princely aura, and was able to answer Greed with dignity befitting a Prince of the Khalid Dynasty.

"I meant no harm, your Majesty, and I bear no envy towards your possessions." he said solemnly, his face neutral.

"Hmmm." Greed rumbled, his voice vibrating the very air around him.

"I wonder, boy. When you walked through my halls, looked upon my things, did you feel... Greed?" he asked.

When Muhammed heard this he didn't know how to respond for a long moment.

This question was surely deeper than it seemed, but he also didn't know if he was simply overthinking things.

Eventually, Muhammed replied in a steady tone, "I cannot say I have, your Majesty."

Muhammed was actually answering honestly, for in truth, all he was doing while walking through Greed's halls was analyzing and speculating. Muhammed had already lived a life of ridiculous luxury, and Greed's tower was just more of the same to him.

After Muhammed said this, Greed flashed him a brilliant smile with shining white gold teeth.

This was actually the best thing Muhammed could have said, for if he had indeed harbored desire for Greed's possessions, his lifespan would certainly have ended shorter than a mortals.

Putting down the women on his arms, Greed said, "You remind me of your father when he was younger, only much smaller."

Muhammed didn't know how to respond to this, so he decided to just stick to the script.

"My father sent me here on a mission, I'm sure your Majesty is aware of the circumstances." he said, trying to appear completely neutral towards this oppressive being.

"Ah, yes. The 'circumstances'." Greed echoed.

"Boy, are you aware of what these circumstances are?" he asked, his smile suddenly gone.

Muhammed nodded his head, "I am."

Greed continued, "Then you should know that the crime of coveting my things harbors severe punishments."

Muhammed nodded once again, "I do, your Majesty."

"So, how do you think your brother should atone for the crime of coveting and consummating with one of my beloved daughters?" he asked, his booming voice piercing Muhammed's core.

Muhammed chose his words carefully, "The Second Prince's actions are unforgivable, but I'm sure that your Majesty would know what is best."

When Greed said nothing, Muhammed continued, "In fact, if your Majesty was willing to be magnanimous, then I cannot see a reason why the Khalid Dynasty would not also be."

Greed snorted, "Do you think your Dynasty has anything that triggers my sin?" he asked after some time.

Muhammed had a feeling that this was a trick question, so he said, "I would not presume to say, your Majesty."

Hearing this, Greed waved his hand and lightly flapped his glowing wings. The movement threw and tossed some of his concubines about.

"Enough, I tire of this already." he said, his features expressing annoyance.

He looked down at Muhammed, "Normally, I would have had one of my sons impregnate one of your sisters to call it even, but now there are new, 'circumstances' as you like to say."

Greed continued, "Recently, my foolish third son decided to provoke one of my brothers. He was obviously killed and sent to the Underworld, so now he lies on one of its levels. I know not which one, but if you wish for me to forgive and forget, then you must find out and retrieve him for me."

Muhammed took all of this in with bated breath, and honestly he was confused as to what Greed was even talking about.

"The Underworld?" he asked, "Do you mean Hell? That place of mortal myth that they go to when they die?"

Greed sighed, "Oh, sin. Your father really tells you nothing doesn't he?"

He continued, "The Underworld, or "Hell" as some mortals call it, is not some mythical fairytale land. It is a real and tangible space located between dimensional barriers. Your family has an item that can be used to access it, and that's the only reason I'm entertaining this conversation."

Muhammed absorbed this information before responding, "How are you sure that your son is there? None of your offspring are mortal after all."

Greed shook his head, "You do not understand. The Underworld is a place where all beings on this plane are eventually sent. The only exceptions are a select few. The place is nothing more than a farm that the Old Gods use to amass power, and the beings sent there are the manure."

"The Old Gods?" was all Muhammed could think to ask after hearing that chilling description.

However, Greed seemed to have had enough of the conversation and waved his hand, "No more questions, boy."

"You have heard my price, now take it to your Father. It is fair. A life in exchange for a life." he said nonchalantly before turning to pick up another one of his concubines.

Seeing this, Muhammed knew that it was his queue to leave.

He turned around and began to exit the throne room, stopping only to pick up the collapsed Ḥāmin who was now lying on the floor.

As he was leaving the room he pondered over all of the information that Greed had either intentionally or unintentionally given him. This so-called 'Underworld', his family's connection to it, and these 'Old Gods'.

'Father has really been keeping a lot from me.' Muhammed thought to himself as he walked through the golden doors once again.

Outside the room he was surprised to discover that he had a new guide. However, when Muhammed looked to the side of the door he saw a horrific sight.

To Muhammed's horror, his previous guide seemed to have been turned completely into gold. The man was seemingly frozen in place, and his fingers were digging into his face as he clutched it in terror.

"F*ck." Muhammed couldn't help but mutter.

When he looked back at his new guide all the man said was, "An unfortunate consequence of interrupting his Exalted Eminence."

***

Several thousand miles away Draco and his entourage were now boarding a plane in London's Heathrow airport.

This was the same plane that he arrived on, and from the outside it looked like what you would expect from a multi-million dollar private jet.

On the inside, however, it was significantly larger than it should have been due to a standard grade spatial compression artifact.

The plane also featured a luxurious bar in the center, a crystal ceiling, and plush reclining chairs in each corner.

'Only a plane like this 'Bombardier Global' could have such luxury. I need to get myself one of these.' Draco thought to himself, envious.

After sitting down in one of the corners and reclining in his chair he thought back to his short trip to London.

He had made almost 500 euros in one night at a club, and he figured that was a little more in dollars. It wasn't much money in the grand scheme of things, but not bad at all for one night.

He had also somehow managed to kill a random civilian, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to feel too much guilt about it.

What can he say? The man was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Shortly after that he had engaged in a life-or-death struggle with another powered being. He hesitated to call it a battle, because in truth he was saved numerous times by only his weapon or robes.

'Regardless, I'm still alive, and that's all that matters.' Draco thought to himself, not too worried about the semantics.

Draco had a philosophy in life. If anyone tried to end his life he would use any means available to end theirs. Even if that meant he had to use a Ḥāmin to get the job done.

'At the end of the day I'm the one victorious, and I even have a shiny new toy to prove it.' Draco thought smugly as he examined his new cane sword.

Over the past day he had grown accustomed to holding the cane. Just holding it made his body feel lighter and his head clearer, he had almost grown addicted to the feeling.

While Draco was looking at his new silver cane Sada approached his chair and sat down in front of him.

"I just heard back from the Princess." she said, "Apparently, us coming back early is of benefit to her now. There is some commotion at the Royal Palace and she has requested our presence."

Hearing this, Draco couldn't help but wonder what this 'commotion' was.